blog

  • London’s calling… [and an election postscript]

    Friday, August 20th, 2010

    Off to London tomorrow night for the UK trip. I have reached the point of preparation where instead of wondering what stupidity makes us do this each year, I am profoundly grateful that I get the opportunity. We called this the Oxygen trip this year, and it’s certainly oxygen for me.

    We start off with Greenbelt, then my half of the Australian contingent heads to Liverpool, Leeds and back to London to join with the other group. We’re exploring the potential for transformative art in public spaces – how do we create spaces for ritual and transformation within the community. Don’t tell those who are coming, but this has been the hardest trip to get my head around. We’ll visit galleries and other places of public art, and we’re talking with lots of practitioners, but so much of it will depend on being able to understand and embrace the possibilities that haven’t yet been imagined. We have an amazing group of people going, so I’m very much looking forward to sharing it with them.

    I said on facebook yesterday that it was hard to know whether to pack for three weeks or three years without knowing the outcome of tomorrow’s federal election. It seems that it’s as close as one has ever been between the two major parties. It won’t be that difficult for anyone who reads this blog and joins the dots to work out where my political persuasions lie. The contexts I work with and have a passionate interest in are immediately affected by government policies – but more so, by government attitudes. And I think the most dangerous, diminishing attitude any community, and therefore government, can have is fear – of the other, of the future, of the unknown. Give me compassion over ‘getting tough’ any day. Give me more boats with asylum seekers over gross exaggeration and misrepresentation every day. Reckless spending doesn’t seem anywhere near as damaging to a country’s soul as reckless fear.

    I speak personally, of course, but the things i have been most scared of in my life have been the things I’ve actually needed to embrace; to learn to live with and be changed by. And I know I speak with biased and warped perspectives [after all, don't we all?] but I can’t help believe that’s at the very heart of the story of faith. And if it’s not, I can’t quite see why we’d bother with it.

    saturday in parkville

    Monday, August 16th, 2010

    We had a good time on Saturday at the alt worship workshop. It’s always a privilege to spend time with a group of people who say ‘we could do that’ rather than ‘that would never work…’

    As promised, these are the links I mentioned at the end:
    Proost [for resources, available on subscription or pay-per-download]
    my book on proost
    Jonny Baker’s worship tricks 1, 2, 3
    Alt worship portal [links to dozens of alt worship communities around the world]
    the smoke and water clips came from istockphoto.com
    other clips came from vimeo.com
    If you’re searching for resources and ideas on this blog, click on ‘alt worship’, ‘installations and spaces’ and ‘worship in prison’ at the top of this page.

    [I didn't mention Jonny Baker's new book because my copy hasn't arrived yet, but I think it's going to be well worth a read]

    in the next week…

    Friday, August 13th, 2010

    Tomorrow I’m at the CTM running a workshop – registrations closed a week ago, and it’s pretty full, but if you’re desperate to come ring the CTM [they'll hate me for this!]… I wish Jonny’s book had turned up so I could find out all the answers before running it.

    Monday we’re heading out to the country to take the next step with a congregation as we explore a team approach to prison chaplaincy in their local area. It’s a new model, a new process and all in all it’s pretty exciting. At the end of next week I head to London for the Oxygen tour.

    Have I mentioned recently how amazingly diverse my job is? And how grateful i am to have it?

    secrets and dreams spaces

    Thursday, August 12th, 2010

    DSC_0046

    Following on from this post, below the jump are words and images from Saturday’s space…

    (more…)

    wrapping up secrets and dreams

    Monday, August 9th, 2010

    whisper

    The secret life of you

    the inside of your being
    barely shown or known
    even to yourself;

    the tantalising, tiny possibilities that
    just might come to life
    if you dare let them,

    so tentative
    that even if there were words for them
    just saying them out loud might break us
    or them.

    If you have a secret
    that is still too precious or new
    to give to the world
    but too big to keep to yourself
    whisper it into an envelope.
    seal it
    and place it back onto the wall.

    We’ll hold it safe with you.

    [photo by Mike]

    We haven’t done a basement space for over a year. The last one was beautiful but calamitous, and I think it’s taken this long for us to have the energy to do it again. It’s been worth the wait. Saturday night in the basement was lovely – I think one of the easiest spaces we’ve created, and one of the easiest for people to be in.

    It’s not just about numbers, of course – we’d do the spaces even if just for us – but it is lovely to have people enter into a space and transform it by being there. We publicised Saturday really badly [i mean, really badly], and in the last minute Blythe found some chalk and wrote ‘Secrets and Dreams’ on the footpath, and we had lots of walk-ins from off the street. I think we ended up with more people than we’ve had at any other space, and there’s no rhyme or reason as to why.

    I’ve always wondered whether what we do holds its own; whether it’s good by all standards, not just the church’s. There were two conversations from Saturday night that I need to remember: One was with a freelance writer who does reviews on contemporary art for various publications, including the Age. She thought the space was wonderful, really thoughtful and lovely. Another was with an woman who organises forums for networks of artists in Melbourne. She thought it was the best conceived and realised installation she’d seen around Melbourne.

    I’ve said on this website numerous times that while Christianity might be a by-product of what we do, it is no longer the primary intention. I simply want to be more human. I think this installation was about that, and, as Bindy and I were talking on Saturday night, we decided this space was far less angsty as a result. We weren’t trying to be clever, or to ask the questions no-one else has thought of – we were just giving people space to be human. And it seemed to work.

    So thanks if you came along… and can I say again what a delight it is to work with the basement space collective. They are, without exception, generous, committed, hardworking, imaginative and fun.

    I’ll put up some more images and words from the space in the next post.

    an opshop of wedding dresses

    Friday, August 6th, 2010

    this was from the Valentines Day space we never did. I remembered it today as I found wedding dresses while going through my storage cupboard…

    ‘an op-shop of wedding dresses’
    [the collective noun for the ghosts of dreams failed]

    raw silk
    hand-sewn with promises
    and embroidered with unrealistic expectations

    vows that came dressed in virginal white,
    now indelibly stained with wine and sweat
    betrayal and disappointment
    failure and pain.

    floor length hems and six-foot trains,
    held up to protect against the world’s unwashed floor,
    until they got too heavy to carry,
    and now marked with grime and dirt.

    the safety pin that holds the sleeve in place;
    after all, it only has to make it through one night.

    imagination, dreams and faith

    Thursday, July 29th, 2010

    they say -
    the people who know these things
    - that when you die in a dream
    you wake up to your life.

    what is the dream
    i need to let die
    for my life to be lived?

    for secrets and dreams

    I’m back from a few days away, a stolen holiday in a month of chaos. They’re always the best holidays, i think – when it feels absurd to go away right now, but you choose to do it anyway.

    I had breakfast with Sarah and Michelle while i was away. I was describing the basement spaces we do here in Melbourne, and I realised, as I was doing so, that we’ve moved on from where we were a while ago. I don’t think faith, in its traditional sense, has come up at all in our conversations about this next space. It’s to do with being human – and more importantly, for those of us who are working on it, it’s a space to cultivate and explore our own imaginations. I think that matters because imagination is the core to our own survival in the days between spaces.

    Of course, imagination is one of the great acts of faith…

    Jonny Baker has a new book out, Curating Worship. It offers an explanation of what worship curation involves, and then includes a collection of interviews with people and groups from around the world who curate worship and installations. i’m really looking forward to reading it [and not just because our basement space group is part of it!]. It’s released on Amazon, etc., in a few weeks, but first copies are out through www.proost.co.uk. Go buy…

    secrets and dreams – the next basement space

    Wednesday, July 21st, 2010


    secretsanddreams


    Secrets and Dreams

    August 7, 2010
    open 5-8pm

    The basement, 130 Little Collins Street Melbourne
    [enter off Coromandel Lane]

    remembering

    Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

    a prayer for those today
    for whom faith is not a choice
    either because it has been ripped from them
    by life
    or because they could not have life without it

    and a prayer for me
    in my self indulgent
    whimsical
    flippant
    wonderings,
    that i will not forget.

    find the path of most resistance

    Monday, July 19th, 2010

    More on creativity, in relation to problem solving… part 1 and part 2.

    It’s interesting how counter-intuitive [or, more accurately, counter-commonsense] they are.

    Stop Daydreaming
    To increase creativity we’re always hearing about the benefits of daydreaming for incubating ideas. It’s a nice idea that all the work is going on under the hood with no effort from us. But you’ll notice that all the methods covered here are active rather than passive.

    That’s because the research generally finds only very small benefits for periods of incubation or unconscious thought (Zhong et al., 2009). The problem with unconscious creativity is that it tends to remain unconscious, so we never find out about it, even if it exists.

    The benefit of incubating or waiting may only be that it gives us time to forget all our initial bad ideas, to make way for better ones. Moreover, incubating only works if the unconscious already has lots of information to incubate, in other words if you’ve already done a lot of work on the problem.

    I’ve realised that the one thing i miss about working closely with church people was the chance to talk about things like this in workshops…

    these are a few of my favourite words

    Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

    all the good words are taken
    so i will use them anyway
    and mean something else:

    i am blessed.

    I will not say it to mean i am lucky to have what i do;
    especially bestowed with something
    that others lack
    due to my good luck
    or god’s good nature
    or something between the two.

    but i will mean
    that i choose to live
    as though in this next moment
    and action
    i have been given the chance
    to be a person of grace.

    i am blessed.

    how to break your brain

    Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

    [title credits go to Sarah...]

    I think ‘crisis’ is one of the many words should be banned from common use [alongside heartbreak and tragedy] – a term of last resort, not every day newspaper headlines – but what’s underneath the headline in this article from Newsweek is quite fascinating. I’m really taken with the concept of creativity as a process of ‘alternating maximum divergent thinking with bouts of intense convergent thinking’…

    …The lore of pop psychology is that creativity occurs on the right side of the brain. But we now know that if you tried to be creative using only the right side of your brain, it’d be like living with ideas perpetually at the tip of your tongue, just beyond reach.

    When you try to solve a problem, you begin by concentrating on obvious facts and familiar solutions, to see if the answer lies there. This is a mostly left-brain stage of attack. If the answer doesn’t come, the right and left hemispheres of the brain activate together. Neural networks on the right side scan remote memories that could be vaguely relevant. A wide range of distant information that is normally tuned out becomes available to the left hemisphere, which searches for unseen patterns, alternative meanings, and high-level abstractions.

    Having glimpsed such a connection, the left brain must quickly lock in on it before it escapes. The attention system must radically reverse gears, going from defocused attention to extremely focused attention. In a flash, the brain pulls together these disparate shreds of thought and binds them into a new single idea that enters consciousness. This is the “aha!” moment of insight, often followed by a spark of pleasure as the brain recognizes the novelty of what it’s come up with.

    Now the brain must evaluate the idea it just generated. Is it worth pursuing? Creativity requires constant shifting, blender pulses of both divergent thinking and convergent thinking, to combine new information with old and forgotten ideas. Highly creative people are very good at marshaling their brains into bilateral mode, and the more creative they are, the more they dual-activate.

    Is this learnable? Well, think of it like basketball. Being tall does help to be a pro basketball player, but the rest of us can still get quite good at the sport through practice. In the same way, there are certain innate features of the brain that make some people naturally prone to divergent thinking. But convergent thinking and focused attention are necessary, too, and those require different neural gifts. Crucially, rapidly shifting between these modes is a top-down function under your mental control. University of New Mexico neuroscientist Rex Jung has concluded that those who diligently practice creative activities learn to recruit their brains’ creative networks quicker and better. A lifetime of consistent habits gradually changes the neurological pattern.

    the most you can do

    Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

    “The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope.” – Barbara Kingsolver

    reacting

    Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

    I’m reading a discussion paper prepared for the Uniting Church’s national assembly. The particular topic of the paper is irrelevant here, but i came across a paragraph that is becoming depressingly familiar, and it’s got me annoyed enough to have been stamping round the office all day. I’ve decided you should all share the brunt, not just my colleagues.

    I quote from the report [which i won't name here - because it's not fair to single this one out over any other]:

    Societal changes have meant a move from the modern belief in reason, progress and human potential to post-modernity with its scepticism concerning reason, suspicion of established institutions, pessimism about the future and relativism.

    Have you ever noticed how many church reports frame post-modernity in negative terms [scepticism, suspicion, pessimism]? It’s really starting to piss me off.

    Relativism is indeed a feature of a post-modern society – because we’ve recognised that the declarative truths of modernity emerged from within a particular cultural framework, and that they come with an innate bias [where the normal, for example, is male, middle class, educated, white, Christian]. The language that mediates truth is always culturally bound, so even if we’ve located a universal truth, our ways of communicating it will never be pure. Post-modernity has meant a move from ‘one size fits all’ in terms of education, belief, family structure, community; it doesn’t mean that there are no longer moral standards but that moral authority no longer comes automatically by virtue of position or status. The scepticism of progress has come because we recognise it often has a cost, and most often that cost is paid by those who can least afford it. Perhaps instead of speaking of ‘a suspicion of established institutions’, we could say instead ‘our society now recognises the limitations and failings of institutions, and readily critiques their assumptions and self-given authority’… Thank god for all of that, i say.

    Of course, post-modernity is bad news for those who previously demanded authority by virtue simply of position. It’s bad news for those who equated knowledge with power, and kept it from others. It’s bad news for people and groups who want everyone to think like them, or who need absolutes to feel safe. It’s good news for everyone whose voice has been excluded, or dismissed as ‘wrong’ or ignorant because it speaks a different truth. Well, it could be good news, if we let it. Coincidentally, the church has a gospel imperative to make it good news.

    Continuing the paragraph:

    In relation to the church, we have moved from a Christian society to a post Christian, individualistic, consumer society in which the church has far less prominence.

    Basically, the church is not the [self-selected] centre of the world anymore. We weren’t doing that good a job at being the centre of the world, and many theologians would argue that the church can only do its job when it isn’t. But that’s not what really bothers me. It’s reducing the description of post-Christian society to being simply individualistic or consumer. It’s both of those things, of course, and i wish it wasn’t. But it’s also become a global society – which means people understand the diversity of the world better. Our society understands the limits of knowledge, and the extraordinary potential and the dangers of human progress. It’s cynical, idealistic, optimistic, pessimistic, all in the one breath. Our society is made up of people who want to change the world, and others who want the world to stay as it is – much like every generation before us. The pressures to consume are enormous, more than ever before, and the church needs to speak prophetically against that. Alongside that, though, is also a capacity to be informed about the world more than ever before – and its about time the church started to celebrate that.

    Surely incarnational theology would have us believe that the gospel speaks into and from within every culture, context and era. I wish that those who see post-modernity as a threat would also understand the damage that modernity has done to the gospel – and i guess it’s up to the rest of us to invite them into the world of possibility that post-modernity offers.

    thanks for letting me stay…

    Tuesday, July 6th, 2010


    i have changed where home is
    i have become a guest in the place of your faith

    no more trying to make myself fit
    contorting, awkwardly

    i have changed where my home is.

    The Culture and Context Unit, within which i work, celebrated its first birthday last week. It’s been a fun ride so far…

    I’ve been spending today writing up some medium to long term strategies to match the Synod’s priorities. One of the Synod’s priorities is risk-taking, and as part of the planning process we need to show a link between our units work and that priority. It’s a fabulous aim, but i’ve found myself having to rationalise why some of the things we do are risks. Staying as part of the church, for instance, when most people would assume the risk is in going out into the world.

    One of the principles that formed the unit was the idea of being a guest at the world’s table. I suspect that one of the reasons why this team gravitated together at the beginning was because that was our natural instinct anyway. We like being out there. We know ourselves in the world. And increasingly, for many of us, the church is almost a parallel universe, operating in a different orbit. This is where we feel alien, not there.

    I don’t know where home is, but i don’t mind not having one. And in letting go of the need to make the church my home i’ve found unexpected appreciation for it. Not wishing the church different has meant I’ve started to recognise its worth. I’ve given up the fight, relinquished my right, and found its goodness. It means that while this is not my home, and i doubt it ever will be again, i love that it’s yours, and i love that you let me stay when i need somewhere to crash for a while…

    so thanks. that’s all.

    go there instead

    Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

    i’ve been writing, writing, writing… everywhere but here.

    i have 15000 words which are the beginnings of a book about the work we do in prisons. I’m at that quagmired stage. The best editor I’ve worked with said to me once, ‘when you think a sentence you’ve written is clever, you need to go back and write it again’. So I am.

    Fortunately there are only one or two clever sentences out of the 1500 or so I’ve written. The rest are just crap. Luckily, this is the stage of writing i love: where you’ve got the right words on a page, they’re just all in the wrong order.

    Anyway, if you’re here because you’re looking for inspiration, or simply a way to pass a few minutes, you’ll be left lacking. Go here instead. Beautiful.

    Zizek, prisons, justice and investment

    Thursday, June 24th, 2010

    We are currently talking to some rural congregations about the connection they have with the prisons in their community, and how we might develop those relationships more fully. I’ll talk more about that down the track – it’s a really exciting new direction – but a lovely part of the process at the moment is the time we are spending with rural communities hearing about their motivations and passions for being involved.*

    There were two big areas of conversation with the members of one rural community yesterday: the first was on what difference faith can make in the prison. Chaplains are not allowed to proselytise – the potential for manipulation is too high. Prisoners are surrounded by psychologist and self-improvement programs. What is it that those representing faith can do? And, as importantly, what is the promise that faith can make and then deliver?

    ‘These Christians,’ said Alex, on my second visit into the prison, ‘They promise the world and then they give you an atlas’.

    As I drove home from the meeting last night, I caught the end of a radio interview. I have no idea what the program was [i was waiting for the news about leadership spills!], or who was being interviewed, but the I heard him say that the primary question for his faith was not ‘what do you believe in?’, but ‘in what do you invest your life?’. He said he could no longer invest his life in ideas about God, but that didn’t mean he’d lost faith. His primary investment now was in justice and love; they were the things worth living for, even if they came to no end. That was the other big area of conversation yesterday – how much working in the prison changes your life. It becomes your investment.

    I’ve learnt that someone has the potential to be a good chaplain when they talk about how they will change in the process, and how they don’t think they have what it takes to do this well. It seems that those who think they are cut out for it find it hard to recognise the holy ground they’re walking on…

    The cliche about prison life is that I am actually integrated into it, ruined by it, when my accommodation to it is so overwhelming that I can no longer stand or even imagine freedom, life outside prison, so that my release brings about a total psychic breakdown, or at least gives rise to a longing for the lost safety of prison life. The actual dialectic of prison life, however, is somewhat more refined. Prison in effect destroys me, attains a total hold over me, precisely when I do not fully consent to the fact that I am in prison but maintain a kind of inner distance towards it, stick to the illusion that ‘real life is elsewhere’ and indulge all the time in daydreaming about life outside, about nice things that are waiting for me after my release or escape. I thereby get caught in the vicious cycle of fantasy, so that when, eventually, I am released, the grotesque discord between fantasy and reality breaks me down. The only true solution is therefore fully to accept the rules of prison life and then, within the universe governed by these rules, to work out a way to beat them. In short, inner distance and daydreaming about Life Elsewhere in effect enchain me to prison, whereas full acceptance of the fact that I am really there, bound by prison rules, opens up a space for true hope.

    Slavo Zizek, The Fragile Absolute

    *It’s times like this where i love being part of a denomination. I know many people are saying that the religious institutions have passed their time, and are no longer places for innovation and experiment, but i’d be devastated if denominations were to end. So much of what we do in the prison and broader community is possible only because we are a denomination. The major decision making and policy implementing bodies within our community are constructed in a way that relies on communication with institutions – I’m not prepared to let our institution go until that reality changes. Denominations are trusted with this because we have a history that lasts beyond any one person or generation; we have the depth of resources and breadth of wisdom that means we are worth listening to. We have proven that we carry through on promises and can [to a large part] be trusted with people’s vulnerabilities.

    That doesn’t mean to say that I think everyone has to be part of a denomination, that i don’t think there are some fundamentally sick things about institutions, or that i don’t want denominations to change – but i get disheartened by those who refuse to acknowledge what it is that would be lost if the institution were to fold, and who define institutions by rigidity and lack of imagination. Of course, if you think the stuff of the church is simply local then none of that matters. But if you think the church has a broader role to play within the community and world, then we need to stay faithful to those collections of people and communities that together have a chance of making that happen.

    alt worship workshop

    Friday, June 18th, 2010

    altwshipwshop

    I’m running a workshop on alt worship for the CTM in Parkville on August 14. Details and a registration form are available here:
    Alt wship wshop Registration form

    doublespeak

    Wednesday, June 16th, 2010

    I suspect I’ll regret posting this, but i’ll throw it up anyway. It’s time for a confession. I have this unhealthy obsession with uber-fundamentalist christian blogs. It began a few years ago when i realised that i didn’t get what people in the emerging church were emerging from, and where the fights about theology were coming from [why were Brian McLaren's books so controversial?] so i started reading some evangelical christian websites, and it only took a few clicks from there until the really scary stuff caught my eye. It really is a whole other world out there – and it’s really not pretty – and I think i’m finally beginning to understand why the USA context is so completely different to Australia, NZ and the UK, in terms of worship, spirituality and community.

    Anyway, long story short, and all that. After reading some stuff last night – in the Guardian*, not the Vision Forum website – I realised that it’s time to start using another word instead of ‘God’. It was this comment that tipped me over the edge:

    As David Attenborough says, there is a species of parasite in Africa which lives by burrowing into the eyeballs of children and blinding them. If God exists, God made that parasite.

    I can re-theologise and explain that away: I don’t believe in an omnipotent being who created the world; I try to have faith in the fragile event. But interrupting a liturgy to include that disclaimer disrupts the all-important poetry. The unpacking and re-interpreting of theological language – of which ‘God’ is the ultimate example, really – is not what i want to spend my time doing. While i’m sure there’s virtue in reclaiming the name, just like there’s virtue in reclaiming the church, I’m happy to leave that to others to do. And I’m really happy to leave behind language that might ever put me in the same camp as the uber-fundamentalists. So I want to find ways to speak of the event of God without ever speaking of God.

    The only time i use the language of God is when i’m writing for a Christian audience. And while i’ve been happy to be ambiguous or multivalent with language, i’m increasingly uncomfortable with people thinking i mean something i really don’t. Wish I knew where to start though.

    *the whole Guardian article is another blog post in waiting – thanks to Blythe for sending it my way.

    when the need for hope to come doesn’t make it happen…

    Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

    just thought i’d throw this out there to see what anyone thinks… it’s a draft of a paragraph in the book i’m writing for the prison.

    Christian witness sometimes confuses hope with optimism, and pastoral care with making people feel better; and the harder a situation is, the more desperately we cling to the belief we can resolve it. Christian hope is not an attitude, but the unexpected, miraculous birthing of a different possibility in the midst of death and desolation. Hope is not another way of looking at things, an attitude readjustment that is transplanted onto our truths; it emerges from within them when we dare to live our truths: to know our deaths, to feel the pain of it, to know the depth of it, as Leunig says. Most heartbreaking of all, our need for hope to come doesn’t mean that it will, which means that we cannot speak hope with the assumption that our words will create it. Our task of faith isn’t to preach hope; to know how to keep living when there’s no hope to be found.

    don’t you hate a travelogue when you haven’t been there yourself?

    Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

    [Christop and Craig have more comprehensive wrap ups of Just Worship, including photos... Craig's blog includes more detailed stuff about Peter Majendie and Dave White's presentations]

    p1020544

    [photo stolen shamelessly from Christop]

    I am back in Melbourne which is deliciously balmy after Christchurch. I had a fabulous time. It’s really good to be home.

    Just Worship was a great event. Thanks to Mark Pierson for making it happen, and for enticing an amazing group to come together for the weekend. I was inspired by the stories of imagination and creativity from all over New Zealand and Australia, and from the passion of those who hadn’t yet begun but knew they were ready to. It was a reminder – if we needed one – that the imagination and creativity lies at the heart of each of us.

    It was lovely to be able to tell the story of what’s happening here. The danger, as we kept saying on the weekend, is that it can sound much grander than what it is, and much more difficult. Stuff only sounds creative when it’s something you never thought of doing, or never thought you could do. If i were to highlight only one of the things that i said on the weekend again, it would be that you can’t actually tell if you’re ‘creative’ until you start trying to be creative. I didn’t know I could write until just a few years ago. Most of the time now I still don’t know if I can write, but the only thing that ever stops me from writing is the idea that maybe i can’t. So now I just say ‘yes’, and see where it goes.

    I remembered again how the most disheartening comments in any conversation are ‘but that wouldn’t work for me’ and ‘we couldn’t do that with our people’. When those comments come up, it feels like we haven’t communicated the most important primary principle behind alt worship / sacred spaces: that what works for me – or my people – will not be what works for you and yours.

    [actually, I know that I said that over and over on the weekend, so perhaps my question is 'why can't people hear that?'.]

    As you might have seen here, I curated a space on the last night. It’s always an honour to be asked to do that, and also one of the most challenging tasks. It’s really, really difficult curating worship that isn’t a showcase, with a group of people you don’t know. When I ‘design’ worship, I do it with a person in mind – it’s the singularity of the person that gives me inspiration [I'm reminded again of Kurt Vonnegut, and his great line 'If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.']. I remember conversations I’ve had with the person, the moments of resonance where I’ve caught a glimpse of a bigger story in their story. Honing in on that gives me a reference point for curating the worship, where i find the connection between what’s human in them [and, most often, me] and the story. My instinct, otherwise, is to create worship that’s too big, too proclaimatory, too generalised [what everybody 'needs' to hear/experience]. It preaches rather than entices.

    As always, the best part for me was the conversations with people that go beyond our best ideas, and start to bring to light the questions and provocations that each of us encounter. I’m so grateful for the few interactions I have each year that push me into that different space – that let us bring the unanswered questions to the surface, with no expectation of resolution; the moments that aren’t about ego or expectation, or things we’ve done, but simply an enjoying of the shared inarticulable longing for something beyond us. There’s a lovely comfort in those conversations. In that vein, Jemma Allen’s stuff about invitation and risk was really important. I also really enjoyed Mike Crudge’s presentation from his masters’ research, in bringing to light the perceptions that people outside the church have about the church, and the factors that lead to those perceptions. I think i’ve got more to learn from Dean – what is your surname Dean? – who works in one of the less advantaged areas of Auckland, who obviously really loves the people in his community, and creates experiential moments with them that seem simultaneously understated and amazing. Spending time with Mark is always food for the soul. I loved meeting some of the prison chaplains in Christchurch, and finding some like-minded souls there, which in turn gave me some confidence in the thinking around prison stuff we’re doing here. In fact, the entire conference was filled with amazing conversations and people – I learnt a lot. thanks.

    I stayed in Christchurch for a few days after the conference. I set aside three days after the weekend to write, deciding that if I couldn’t get a decent start on a book about the stuff we do in prisons, then I needed to let the idea go. It worked brilliantly as a motivation; as did the rain / hail / freezing weather which made doing anything outside very unattractive. I deliberately rationed my internet use last week in order to not get distracted. Apologies if you’re waiting on email from me – i’m not quite game to look at them yet…

    christchurch sacred space – if nothing else

    Monday, June 7th, 2010

    It takes faith to wait without hope,
    to trust that although there is no sense to this
    we must do it anyway.

    At the limits of our capacity to make sense of the world
    at the edges of our grace, energy and love
    lie this:

    bread and wine.

    Take and eat.

    If nothing else, it will keep you alive.

    the pdf of the stations can be downloaded here: rpf_nz

    we will not be remembered [ii]

    Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010

    [The same, but very different.]

    We will not be remembered.

    In all the world’s history,
    perhaps 100 billion people have breathed, loved, lived, died
    and we could name only
    a hundred?
    a thousand?

    We will not be remembered.

    There have been as many people as grains of salt or sand, they say,
    and hard as that is to believe
    it’s even harder to imagine
    that for every person that lived there is a story that mattered -
    a desperation to have lived in a way
    that means something,
    that lasts beyond human years,
    a longing to be something more
    than who we are.

    We will not be remembered.

    And in every generation’s desperation to leave an indelible mark on the world
    - in our clamour to be heard, noticed, not forgotten -
    is it any wonder it’s too hard to hear
    the whisper of an ancient love
    speaking life and promise
    into the world’s existence.

    We will not be remembered

    except we are
    when this story
    becomes real in every generation and place;
    when it entangles
    and permeates
    our human story
    with hope and promise,
    so grace is born out of fear and brokenness
    and love is carried into the next.

    We will not be remembered
    but the love that holds and makes us will

    if we have the faith to let that be enough.

    vanity, all is vanity

    Thursday, May 27th, 2010

    a first draft for a space I’m doing in New Zealand next week…

    We will not be remembered.

    In all of history,
    perhaps 100 billion people have breathed, loved, lived, died
    and how many do we remember?
    a hundred?
    a thousand?

    their dreams, passions, fears;
    the loves they have grieved;
    the hopes they have born

    have become only dust.

    We will not be remembered.

    And in all our desperate attempts to become eternal,
    – to leave an immortal mark on the world -
    chances are, we will leave only scars.

    We will not be remembered.

    And if this is true
    [do you doubt it?]
    pray here for the courage
    to live with being human,
    and the faith to dream, hope and love
    to no avail.

    synod

    Friday, May 21st, 2010

    My five year hiatus on church meetings comes to an end today. Last time I went to a synod meeting, I quit my job. I’ve just signed on here for five more years, so I definitely won’t be doing that this time, but I have very much loved my church meeting free life.

    If you’re coming to synod, shall we do coffee?

    Other members of the Culture and Context unit will be popping in at different times over the next week – we can all be found at different times at the CCU table in the foyer… pop over and say hello.

    speaking to our humanity

    Wednesday, May 19th, 2010

    i loved the whole article by Mark Vernon, but the last lines in this paragraph resonate perfectly with me…

    I feel a bit of an impostor, standing behind a lectern giving a religious address. It’s not that I haven’t done it before. I used to be an Anglican priest. However, now I’m agnostic about Christianity – though I rather like the phrase Diarmaid MucCulloch has coined, being a ‘candid friend’ of Christianity. You see, we agnostics worry about Christianity too – and for not dissimilar reasons to those I imagine are shared by many here. We know we need it, as much as those of faith need it, for Christianity is the great story of our lives. But we worry that this great story, at least in the west, is not speaking to our humanity as it might do, so as to enlarge it.

    blessed be the perplexed and confused

    Monday, May 10th, 2010

    blessed be the perplexed and the confused
    for theirs will be the kingdom of holy insecurity…

    i search the scriptures for the stories that tell like mine:
    for those who were found
    and now are lost;
    who could see
    and now are blind

    but the words and stories
    that have been my staff and strength
    finished too soon

    and where there were answers
    there are now only questions
    scored deeply into the heart of my soul
    like a compass point
    ripping into my skin
    and tattooing indelible prayers
    of faithlessness.

    flimsy

    Friday, May 7th, 2010

    i am a flimsy web
    of uncertainty
    i said,
    quoting the poem,

    relishing the ease
    with which the words rolled around my tongue
    and fell on your ears

    until i watched doubt enter your faith
    for the first time.

    i am so sorry.

    it’s all too easy
    to deny the power i have
    to crush another’s fragile
    faith.

    doubt is sacred
    and not to be entered blithely.

    choosing the good in the uncertain moment

    Tuesday, May 4th, 2010

    Last week was the week to be indignant about everything, and I spent it being self-righteously enraged. It was great [and we've got nearly $100 000 pledged as a deposit for when Pauline Hanson puts her house back on the market... How amazing is that?].

    I think this week is the week to find the good in the uncertain moment.

    My colleagues have been inspiring me. We were talking about Carl Williams last week in a meeting, and I said something about how our instinctive human response is to assess someone’s worth and right to exist – to assume the right to judge, label and dismiss them. It’s our default position as humans – it comes as naturally to us as breathing – and we revert to it the moment we let our guard down. Sarah replied: ‘Perhaps that’s what faith is talking about when it asks us to die to ourselves everyday’.

    Alongside that, I’ve been doing some writing about all I no longer know of faith. At the end of the piece I wrote, ‘I’m left being sure of nothing but my need to love’. It was an easy line to write, and a nice way to conclude. Then my colleague Andy showed me a video of John Swinton yesterday, where he quotes Thomas Aquinas [I paraphrase]: ‘Love means saying to the outsider, I am glad you exist. I am glad you are here.’

    It’s a beautiful definition, but I’ve realised I agree with it only as long as I get to choose who to say that to. The trouble with enraged weeks is that they leave one sure of too much… and I’m a bit scared that the anecdotal evidence of my own life seems to indicate that the more I am sure about, the less I love.

    Last night I tried saying ‘I am glad you exist, I am glad you are here’ while watching politicians of all persuasions on the news, and while reading stories of melbourne’s crime and justice system. As it turns out, love is an act of constant will, contrary to every one of my instincts… my default position is that I want to make an equation out of love: I shouldn’t have to be glad that Pauline Hanson exists because she does so much that is hateful.

    I suspect that me hating Pauline Hanson doesn’t do any good. Likewise, I suspect that me saying ‘I am glad you exist’ won’t change her either. But it will change me. Even if simply because it forces me to acknowledge that truth, life and love are bigger than my imagining. I am making myself live the truth I want her to live too. I am dying to myself.

    I liked it better last week when I was sure. It turns out living in the uncertain moment is much harder than i thought.

    UK 2010 – last spot left…

    Monday, May 3rd, 2010

    We have one spot left on the UK trip this year. It’s in the transformative spaces group [which i'm leading]… let me know if you’re interested.

    landscapes of desire

    Monday, May 3rd, 2010

    Jonny has posted video of the installation we curated in Adelaide back in March. It feels like a lifetime ago…

    Some words from the space:

    It takes courage to step into the space
    to take a journey that we know is precarious.

    And the steps unbalance us,
    throw us sideways,
    into a space where we know we just might fall.

    The edges of the stones dig into us.
    We know they’re coming
    but they always find the raw spaces
    where we thought we were already calloused:

    a memory
    a word
    a push into a space we can no longer control…

    Take hold of a piece of gravel.
    Feel its sharp edges dig into your skin.
    Let it remind you of your human-ness
    and fragility,
    of the bitter sweet
    harshly beautiful
    path we walk.

    alas…

    Friday, April 30th, 2010

    Pauline Hanson took her house off the market yesterday. And just when we have over 450 people who have committed to giving $100 to buying her house to give to a group of Muslim refugees, and some media interest in the fabulous response…

    I sent the following message to the facebook group members this morning. It would be great if you’d think of contributing too…

    Thanks so much for joining the group. There’s nothing quite like a feeling of solidarity to make one feel like we have a chance to change the conversation.





    You may have read that Pauline took her house off the market late yesterday due to ‘media pressure’. This is sad on many, many levels – one of which was that we were beginning to get some media interest in this group, which would have been great simply because there’s nothing better than being able to say ‘enough’ out loud…

    

Can I make a request? That you still give the $100 you were going to spend on the house, and instead donate it to the Hotham Mission Asylum Seeker Project? You can find out more about them, and donate to them here. They have been well respected for their work in this area for many, many years.

 Best of all, there is an option to send a message with your donation. If you earmark it ‘Fund for Muslim Housing’, they will be able to focus your money into that area, and also record how much money has been donated in reaction to Pauline’s remarks. And somehow, we’ll find a way to let Pauline – and the broader community – know that her outrageous statements are simply fuel for our generosity… Not only will we be contributing to something good, but doing it directly in response to her really has to piss her off…




    And let me know if you think we should set up a group ‘Every time Pauline makes racist claims, I’ll donate $10 to the fund for Muslim housing…’

    chapel opening at Barwon Prison

    Thursday, April 29th, 2010

    We blessed the new chapel at Barwon Prison yesterday. The chapel is gorgeous; designed by one of the inmates, and built by some of the men. They were rightly proud as punch.

    the liturgy went as follows:

    Welcome to the Land:
    This chapel is on land of which the Wauthurong people have been the custodians since time immemorial. We honour the elders of the Wauthurong and commit ourselves to working for reconciliation with them.

    Gathering:
    We gather in this place,
    people of vastly different beliefs
    holding to the faith we have in common:
    that there is a story
    waiting to be told
    of justice
    hope
    and love.

    We gather in this chapel
    to set it apart with our prayers
    as somewhere those stories can be given life.

    Statement of purpose
    This chapel is built of dirt, and we bring into it the elements of fire and water.

    Together, these three symbols tell of the most fundamental realities of our world: that life is, at once, fragile and resilient.

    They remind us of the things that are most fundamental about each of our lives:
    We are human -
    fragile and flawed,
    needing a place to belong to and a people to be part of,
    reliant on forgiveness and mercy,
    dependent on the promise that life can begin again.

    Because while earth, fire and water are the building blocks of the world,
    they are only brought to life
    by a breath of grace and hope and love

    So we add our prayers for life to this building,
    to set it apart,
    so that it will be a place where we can bring the stories of our lives -
    the dirt, the pain and the promise -
    and pray that here they can be held and changed
    by grace, hope and love.

    Music and reflection

    Readings:

    In the name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful
    Praise be to God, Lord of the universe
    Most Gracious, Most Merciful
    Master of the Day of Judgment
    You alone we worship; You alone we ask for help
    Guide us in the right path
    the path of those whom You blessed.
    Amen.
    (Muslim Prayer)

    Isaiah 58:1, 6-8 (from the Hebrew Scriptures)
    Shout out, do not hold back!
    Lift up your voice like a trumpet!
    Announce to my people their rebellion,
    to the house of Jacob their sins.
    Is not this the fast that I choose:
    to loose the bonds of injustice,
    to undo the thongs of the yoke,
    to let the oppressed go free,
    and to break every yoke?
    Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
    and bring the homeless poor into your house;
    when you see the naked, to cover them,
    and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
    Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing shall spring up quickly;
    your vindicator shall go before you,
    the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
    Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
    you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

    Luke 4:16-19 (from the Christian scriptures)
    When Jesus came up to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
    “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    because he has anointed me
    to bring good news to the poor.
    He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
    and recovery of sight to the blind,
    to let the oppressed go free.”

    Comments by Jenny Hayes

    Blessing of the chapel and chaplains:

    Because we know that love, forgiveness, mercy and hope are not purely of human making, we ask a blessing on this chapel and the chaplains who will serve here:

    Chaplains: We commit ourselves to being people of compassion
    Congregation: May all who come here find welcome

    Chaplains: We commit ourselves to embodying the truths of forgiveness and mercy
    Congregation: May all who come here find grace and love

    Chaplains: We commit ourselves to holding faith and hope for those who cannot
    Congregation: May all who come here find courage and life

    Chaplains: We commit ourselves to speaking truth and justice
    Congregations: May all who come here find liberation and transformation, and may this will be a place of true reconciliation and restoration.
    Amen.

    Prayers:
    We hold before each other
    and we hold before God,
    those things for which we would give thanks:
    for the hands of those who built this chapel
    investing it with their time, their commitment, their abilities,
    we give thanks for those who will tell stories of healing and hope in this place
    and for those who will bring their stories of fragility and failing
    in the faith that they can be restored.

    We hold before each other
    and we hold before God
    those people for whom we would pray:
    for those who feel the pain and insecurity and distress of this last week’s events,
    for those who have no hope,
    for those who are waiting for justice,
    for those who are waiting for forgiveness,
    for those who do not yet know they need it.

    We hold before each other
    and we hold God,
    our prayer that justice will be done
    that hope will come,
    and that all that is broken will be restored to wholeness.
    Amen.

    Sending out

    May all be filled with joy and peace.
    May all beings everywhere,
    The strong and the weak,
    The great and the small,
    The meek and the powerful,
    The short and the long,
    The subtle and the gross:

    May all beings everywhere,
    Both seen and unseen,
    Dwelling far off or nearby,
    Being, or waiting to become:
    May all be filled with lasting joy.
    (Buddhist prayer)

    And now, go from this place with hope
    Take the promises found here into the places you return
    Carry with you the strength of the Source of all Life
    and may peace be yours until we meet again.

    Enough.

    Thursday, April 29th, 2010

    It’s been a week of justified indignation at the havoc wrought by intolerance … so last night when Pauline Hanson popped up on the tv to say she wouldn’t sell her house to a muslim, it was a final straw.

    We’ve started a campaign: to find 20 000 people who would give $100 to collectively buy Pauline’s house, then give it to a group of Muslim refugees.

    If you’re on facebook, you can join up here. If you’re not, just let me know you want to be part of it. Enough, dammit.

    the story waiting to be told

    Friday, April 23rd, 2010

    I’m curating the opening of the new chapel in Barwon Prison next week. It’s an interfaith chapel and service. These are a couple of moments from the service:

    Gathering:
    We gather in this place,
    people of vastly different beliefs
    holding to the faith we have in common:
    that there is a story
    waiting to be told
    of justice
    hope
    and love.

    We gather in this chapel
    to set it apart with our prayers
    as somewhere those stories can be given life.

    Purpose:
    This chapel is built of dirt, and we bring into it the elements of fire and water.

    Together, these three symbols tell of the most fundamental realities of our world: that life is, at once, fragile and resilient.

    They remind us of the things that are most fundamental about each of our lives:
    We are human -
    fragile and flawed,
    needing a place to belong to and a people to be part of,
    reliant on forgiveness and mercy,
    dependent on the promise that life can begin again.

    Because while earth, fire and water are the building blocks of the world,
    they are only brought to life
    by a breath of grace and hope and love

    So we add our prayers for life to this building,
    to set it apart,
    so that it will be a place where we can bring the stories of our lives -
    the dirt, the pain and the promise -
    and pray that here they can be held and changed
    by grace, hope and love.

    he’s just a serial killer

    Thursday, April 22nd, 2010

    To be honest, what occurred in the prison was obviously unacceptable, but the person concerned was a serial killer. I think it would be quite unnecessary and a quite inappropriate use of taxpayers’ money to have a royal commission.

    - Victoria’s Premier, talking about why we shouldn’t hold a royal commission into the murder of Carl Williams.

    I think we’ve seen the worst of the media, our politicians and our community in Melbourne this week.

    I’m writing some stuff at the moment about how one of the most dominant human instincts is to define people by one characteristic: a disability, a character trait, their appearance, an evil they’ve committed. By describing them that way ['the paraplegic', rather than 'the man who is also a paraplegic], we decide what is the most important thing about them. We never let them be more than that. Sure, it’s more clumsy to not use the shorthand, but if we have to save words, perhaps there are others less important that we could cut.

    No-one is just a serial killer. And that includes those who are serial killers.

    Andy Hamilton has written the best article on this. Go read.

    griefs

    Tuesday, April 20th, 2010

    thinking of those who are living the papers’ headlines today,
    whose grief is being trampled and discarded by the judgment of a world
    with too little imagination
    to remember that even those who do evil are human too.

    thank god we are not like them, we say,
    ignoring the fact that we are,
    in almost every way.


    [and thinking today
    of those i love
    who are living their own stories of grief,
    not to be told here,

    and wishing, irrationally,
    we could make a life
    that somehow didn't include death.]

    reclaiming uni-tasking

    Monday, April 19th, 2010

    The woman at the cafe gave me my coffee free this morning - it’s so lovely to have you back, she said. It’s only been ten days, but it really does feel like i’ve been away for ever.

    Easter in the prison went really well – beyond all expectations. We didn’t overthink it this year, and just let it unfold. It was beautiful. On holy saturday Jenny brought in platters of bread, cheese and grapes – we decided that we would celebrate god’s presence in our hell by having lunch together. One woman just sat looking at the food, she couldn’t bring herself to eat it, and after a while she whispered to those of us around her, ‘I think I’m in heaven’.

    I had another of those conversations last week with someone who insinuated that we were doing something virtuous or sacrificial or brave by being in the prison over easter. Really, I’m not that generous – I do it because it makes sense of my world in a way that nothing else does.

    I left the prison each day and went home to pack boxes, moving house the day after easter. The new place is gorgeous but currently internet free. It’s meant that I’ve started reading the newspaper again, instead of reading news on line – it feels like a reclaimed luxury, and like I know stuff again about the world! There was a great article hidden in yesterday’s paper about the fallacies of multi-tasking, particularly as it relates to creative, non-linear work. The article gave all the common sense reasons why multi-tasking is damaging: when we multi-task we ‘do by rote’, disabling our capacity to reflect and change what we do, which is of course the most critical part of double or triple loop learning; things take longer when we multi-task and we lose a sense of accomplishment when a task is finished because our mind groups all current tasks together. The kicker was the line that talked about how we all think we multi-task better than anyone else, but really we’re deluding ourselves… and worse, multi-tasking is addictive, feeding into our desire for constant stimulation.

    I’d like to get back in the habit of uni-tasking. I’m going to ask myself, when i begin a task, whether it’s something that’s worth focussing on to the exclusion of all else, and if so i’ll create an environment of singular focus and non-stimulation in order to do that. I think that means I have to not be afraid of being bored. I also suspect it’s going to be much harder than i imagine…

    away…

    Thursday, April 1st, 2010

    i’m in the prison over easter [friday, saturday, sunday], and when i’m not i’ll be at home packing boxes ready for a house move next tuesday [because why not put all the stressful events in one's life in the same weekend?]. I’m off work for two weeks after easter… see you on the other side.

    a few random bits from sunday in the prison

    Thursday, April 1st, 2010

    I wrote this gathering a few years ago but never used it. this seemed to be the year.

    We are here
    
because we’re people who have heard a rumour
    
that there’s life to be found on the other side of death.

    We’re here because just the rumour is enough to bring
    us hope
    
and just the hope is enough to bring us a moment of life.


    We’re here because even though it is only a flicker,
    a moment,
    a breath
    
it’s changed our death forever.

    Welcome to worship.

    Prayer of confession
    We confess, God
    that we look for the living among the dead:
    that we wish things would return to just how they were
    rather than looking for where love might be alive now.

    We confess that we don’t have the faith to believe
    that life might come into our darkest hells.

    We confess that it’s too dangerous to believe it.

    Give us the faith to leave the death we know
    and to search out the places
    in the world
    where life might be found.

    Prayer for the world
    Today we find ourselves in a world where the inevitable

    no longer seems sure,
    and we wonder what else is made possible
    
because of the resurrection:
    what walls will be broken

    and what darkness will be destroyed;
    what death will be shown for what it is:
    
the possibility
    
for love
    
to come again.

    You are invited to come and light a candle, and to say a prayer, either silently or out loud, for the world.
    As you leave,
    you might like to take a piece of cloth with you.

    Blessing

    Send us into the world, God
    ready to encounter resurrection:
    to point to love’s presence
    to light another’s darkness
    to speak your peace into the world’s pain.

    and may we go as people who know there is another end to the story
    and who will not live with fear anymore.

    The grace…

    the last word of lent

    Thursday, April 1st, 2010

    Breaking.

    Holy Saturday

    Wednesday, March 31st, 2010

    They call this day Holy Saturday

    when hope has died
    when God is dead and buried.

    They call this day holy
    because we finally understand
    what it is to be human
    and what it is to be divine.

    They call this day holy
    because today we can finally believe
    that God knows
    intimately
    and in the very depth of God’s being,
    the world’s
    grief
    fragility
    and fear.

    Good Friday for the prison

    Wednesday, March 31st, 2010

    I am so late in getting this all organised…

    We’re inviting the women to write some responses at each section of the service, which will be used for Holy Saturday with images of Pietas. One of the women, Tomy, is going to sing a song at the end of the service. The rest of the service goes like this:

    Gathering

    They call today Good Friday
    but what could make this day good?

    if you have ever believed that love inevitably leads to betrayal
    this day says it doesn’t.
    if you have ever believed that some people are unlovable, irredeemable
    this day says they aren’t.
    if you have ever believed that there is a limit to forgiveness
    this day says there isn’t.
    if you have ever believed you aren’t worth saving
    this day says you are.
    if you have ever believed that you don’t deserve freedom
    this day says you do.
    if you have ever believed that fear, anger, hate and despair will always win
    this day says it won’t.
    this day is good for you.

    Welcome to worship

    Hymn: O Sacred Head Sore Wounded
    Introduction to the worship

    1. Jesus before Pilate and Herod
    Luke 23:1-12

    It seems, even back then, that people wanted Jesus to do things
    to satisfy their own desires:
    to like the people they liked
    to perform miracles on demand
    to look after their own interests

    But this is a story of how love doesn’t always do as we desire.

    And this is a story of how God always takes the path of love.

    Extinguish candle
    Music: ‘By the rivers of Babylon’, Sinead O’Connor

    What is the path of love you need to follow this easter?

    2. Jesus is sentenced to death
    Luke 23:13-25

    It’s easy to condemn the crowd
    for wanting Jesus dead,
    to criticise their fickleness and stupidity

    but if we’re honest
    we put love on trial
    all the time:

    whenever we choose the easy way out
    whenever we act selfishly or fearfully
    whenever we take the path of least resistance
    by denying what is good and holy
    its right to live.

    But even when our love fails, God’s love doesn’t.
    And this is a story of how God always takes the path of love.

    Extinguish candle

    Music: ‘Out of the depths’ Sinead O’Connor

    Where have you denied love the right to live?

    3. The crucifixion of Jesus
    Luke 23:26-43

    Not much about this story makes sense.
    Even though we know how it goes,
    we still wish it would play out differently
    that putting faith in God
    might not lead to a cross.

    we confess we wish that God were more judgmental towards those we find it hard to forgive
    we confess we wish that love didn’t have this kind of cost
    we confess we wish that God would simply step in and make everything better
    we confess we wish that Jesus would stand up for himself and prove the truth about him.

    And we confess that we excuse ourselves by saying ‘we’re only human’,
    but this is the day Jesus shows us there is another way to be human.

    This story tells us
    that Jesus can only ever choose love
    and that we are invited to also.

    And this is the story of the path that God’s love takes.

    Extinguish candle

    Music: ‘Hurt’, Jonny Cash

    What is the story you need to tell of God’s love?

    4. The Death of Jesus
    Luke 23:44-49

    This is the moment when the darkness comes
    there are no more words to say
    because none can tell the story
    of what has happened.

    This is the moment when we have to acknowledge how hard faith is,
    how difficult it is to live,
    and how much it works against our instinct for self-preservation.

    And this is the moment to celebrate the relentlessness of god
    that follows love’s path
    without failing or faltering
    even when it leads to this end.

    Music: ‘Outstretched Arms’, sung by Tomy

    Blow out candle

    What is the story you need to tell of God’s love?

    5. Jesus is buried
    Luke 23:50-56

    Sometimes we have to bury the dead
    even when what has died is good
    and lovely.

    Sometimes we have to let hopes go
    even when they are the very best we have known.

    Sometimes we have to wrap them with the cloth of regrets and the blessing of our tears

    we have to place them in a grave
    and roll the stone across

    If there is a hope you need to let go,
    while the music plays,
    come and take a piece of the white fabric
    then place it onto the cross.

    Music: ‘O God, where are you now?’

    Extinguish candle

    Hymn: When I survey the wondrous cross

    Blessing:
    Today is a day when all seems lost
    When nothing about Jesus makes sense
    unless we see it through the eyes of relentless, unlimited love.

    Go with the courage to search out that love,
    and to let it take you where it will.

    And go in the uneasy and difficult peace of Good Friday

    amen.

    2 words of lent

    Wednesday, March 31st, 2010

    unwillingly fragile

    3 words of lent

    Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

    Embarrassed by fickleness.

    4 words of lent

    Monday, March 29th, 2010

    Hold onto yourself today.

    5 words of lent

    Sunday, March 28th, 2010

    cliches come too easily.

    sorry.

    6 words of lent

    Saturday, March 27th, 2010

    The guilt creeps back.
    I’m relieved.

    7 words of lent

    Friday, March 26th, 2010

    Looking for diversion
    but finding only life.

    8 words of lent

    Thursday, March 25th, 2010

    breaking into tiny pieces
    faith takes its toll